


Two Holiday Observances

by Mab (Mab_Browne)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Canon Setting, First Kiss, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mab_Browne/pseuds/Mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Doyle do Valentines Day their own way.  It still involves pink bows and chocolate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Holiday Observances

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Valentine's Day 2009 challenge in the community, Discovered in a Live Journal. Thank you to Runriggers and Jane Davitt for the beta.

**Twelfth Night**

Bodie likes Ray's hands. Likes most things about Ray, even the unattractive qualities like his temper and an inclination to over think the occasional issue, and his tendency to buy Australian wines and reminisce about bloody Esther. Just as well she preferred life in the mysterious East; Bodie always did have her pegged as a bigger threat than Miss Ann la-di-dah Holly.

He watches now, while Ray's hands nervously twirl the stalk of an apple, a Golden Delicious, come all the way from sunnier climes than London in January. Twist, twist, twist, the stalk finally breaking off as Ray says, "I dunno, Bodie. Can't say as I ever fancied myself as a poofter."

Bodie refuses to let his internal wince show on his face. "Gathered that from when you told me that you'd looked but not touched. Thing is, Ray, you did say that you'd looked."

"And you immediately assumed that because I've looked, that I'd be up for a bit of queer slap and tickle?" Sizzling vitriol - something that Ray feels more comfortable with than his earlier gobsmacked confusion, presumably. Bodie can't exactly say the same as it splashes over him, but he soldiers on anyway.

"I'm not assuming anything. But I just thought..."

"What? Thought I looked like a bum boy, did you?"

Enough. Time to end this disaster, although not without a parting salvo of his own.

"Not at all, goldilocks. Such a butch, beautiful thing that you are." He turns on his heel, smart as on parade, and makes his retreat in good order; unfortunately, the gears of the car make humiliating graunching noises within earshot of Ray's flat. He never misses the gears. Never.

He's been back in his flat for all of five minutes when the phone rings.

"Yeah," he snarls into the receiver.

"It's me."

"Is it? Never would have guessed. What do you want?"

"I was an arsehole."

"Yes, Doyle, you were. Apology accepted." Bodie wants this over and done with. The 'let's forget it ever happened' offer must be close and he'd rather that it went unsaid.

"I was surprised."

"I know." Bodie's spine itches. He's prepared to believe Cowley when he says that he doesn't bug the flats, but the phone lines are randomly monitored according to some arcane schedule, and he can't bear the thought that this could be the moment.

"I'll think about it."

Bodie stares blankly at the wall.

"You what?" he says gormlessly.

"I said that I'll think about it," Ray replies with rough asperity, and hangs up.

"Well, bugger me." And then, realising what he's just said, Bodie begins to laugh in helpless amusement.

 

* * *

 

**Valentine's Day**

There's a box sitting on Ray's table, covered in shiny paper with a frighteningly froufrou bow exploding over the top. It makes Bodie's heart sink, but it also makes him desperately curious. He can't imagine any bird who would take Ray Doyle's interest requiring a token this aggressively pink and gleaming.

"What's this then?" he asks.

The box isn't the only thing about that's aggressive. "It's Valentine's Day isn't it?" Stroppy bugger; nervy as a bad-tempered cat. Bodie feels his heart sink that bit more, but he rallies. The only thing more stupid than giving your heart to a dog to tear is offering it up to Ray Doyle in a mood.

"Keeping her a secret are you? Hand on heart, Doyle, I'll leash the charm..."

"You on a leash, mate? That I'd give good money to see. It's for you. You're the one who said that I was - what was it - butch and beautiful. I reckon that puts me in the gift-giving role for today."

For a moment, Bodie has an almost uncontrollable impulse to hit Ray. Insolent little bastard, keeping his mouth closed and his face shuttered all these weeks and now taking that conversation and making a fucking joke out of it. But Bodie's been reading Ray's body language for a long time now. The look in his eye is challenging - it always is. The poise is that of a man primed for the fight he might have started, waiting and ready, but the hard-edged glitter of gray-green eyes is genuinely anxious.

Bodie might later analyse the process which informs his actions. Ray's making an offer, and if Bodie no longer wants it or takes it wrong, yes, of course, it's a stupid prank between mates, or a nasty joke between the normal bloke and the poofter. Ray's been listening to too many of Cowley's lectures on triple think. Twisty and twistier.

Whereas what Bodie has to do is very, very straightforward. He sits down at the table and smiles like a happy child. "For me? Shouldn't have, mate."

"That's what I'm starting to think." Ray remains standing, arms uncompromisingly crossed across his chest; the last bastion of defence.

Bodie is very careful about taking the wrapping apart. "Have to save this. Never know when it might be useful," he says, as his fingernail carefully lifts the sellotape, and gently unpeels the paper in all its surgical-appliance-coloured glory. Underneath it all is a box of Mr Cadbury's fine products. Glass and a half of full cream milk and all that. Bodie isn't so careful with the cellophane around the box, as the rich scent of chocolate fills his nostrils.

"Thought I should lift your horizons beyond Swiss roll," Ray says, sounding as sour as the chocolates smell sweet.

The lid opened, Bodie takes his time before selecting the Turkish delight, which he pops into his mouth, barely tasting it. Still...."Good this. Want one?"

"If you don't mind sharing." Bodie knows every chord and timbre of Ray's voice. Something's relaxed, accepted the decision proffered with the silly gift. And yes, Bodie minds sharing very much, but that's a conversation for another day.

A quick recce of the assortment list enables Bodie to pick out a peppermint creme. He doesn't want Ray's mouth occupied with _chocolate_ for too long. He stands and walks to Ray, not so very far away, and places fingers and the chocolate they hold close to Ray's mouth. "Open wide," he requests. Ray opens his mouth like a baby bird's, and treat deposited, Bodie's fingers are returned unmutilated.

"All right?" Bodie asks. He's not enquiring about the taste of the chocolate.

Ray's tongue slips out. Maybe he really _is_ thinking about the taste of the chocolate. Maybe he's being a tease. Bodie knows which one he'd plump for.

"Not bad."

"I've always suspected you were better than simply 'not bad', Ray," Bodie says. And finally he gets a smile, mischievous and relieved although still unsure; so Ray gets his Valentine's Day present in the form of a chocolate-flavoured kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering why this is _two_ holiday observances, Twelfth Night is also the Feast of the Epiphany - which back in the days of my schooling and English classes related to a character's discovery or revelation of something important or profound.


End file.
